Losing Sight of the Shore
by MckCouGill
Summary: Patsy's thoughts as she sails away from Hong Kong.


_"We are tied to the ocean._

 _And when we go back to the sea, whether it is to sail or to watch -_

 _we are going back from whence we came."_

 _..._

Surveying the crowds of people below as the ship pulled away from the port in Hong Kong, Patsy was hit with an overwhelming sense of deja vu. She could remember it all so well. The smiling faces on the dockside- people waving. Some crying, others shouting words of encouragement and farewells to the departing passengers. Families torn apart, some reuniting. Confusion and grief and happiness and noise. There had been nobody to wave her goodbye the last time she had sailed alone from the Far East. 17 years had passed by. There was still nobody there to wish her well.

Her father was dead- and with him the last link to a world far away had been severed. There would be no more humid, curious new countries to navigate. No more cultures that she had to adapt to. No more conversations spoken in broken English, though her ears still pricked during moments of recognition of long forgotten words and phrases, of languages not heard since childhood. She would not return.

She felt tired, so very tired.

She sat on the deck and watched the waters stretch behind her, and looked sadly at the disappearing land that her father had called home. It had never been her home, and it never would be. Still, she was glad that he had found a place. That her nomadic father had found a land to settle in, far from the guns of war. She too was glad that his suffering was over. She grieved for him- she always would, but in reconnecting with him she had learned to let him go. Wherever he had gone now, she felt sure he was with people he loved. That he had returned to his long departed and deeply missed family.

It was time for her to do the same.

She knew she ought to have written, to have told Delia what had happened. She'd tried, but hadn't been able to put the words to paper. To write it in bold ink made it all seem so final. Like all this time apart had been futile- the sadness and the longing, had all come to a conclusion which had been inevitable from the start. She knew when she'd left all those months ago that it would only end one way. It still hurt though, the gnawing pangs of pain that death of a loved one leaves. So she'd done what she always did and jumped into action. Arranged the funeral, booked her passage back to England, tied up as many of her father's affairs as she was able and set sail for home.

Weeks slowly passed by, and contrary to her name Patsy thought she would go mad with impatience. She was desperate to get back to England and back to Delia. The journey across the globe was all too familiar, and the memories this evoked caused an ache in her heart she couldn't escape from. She was twenty nine, a woman now. But that frightened, seasick, lonely little girl was still inside her, and she always would be. A child sailing into the unknown and desperately missing her mum. Patsy would carry this girl, as she carried the cruelly inflicted scars on her back that would always remain. But now she had a person who could salve those wounds, who understood, who would take her as she was- scars and all. That's what made this journey different. She was not sailing alone anymore.

On a bitterly cold morning when the boat finally crawled in Southampton harbour, she looked once again at crowds of people waving and waiting below. Patsy thought back again to the last time she'd disembarked a ship in this strange new country. Twelve years old, with barely a possession to her name. Just a small suitcase and with bandages still wrapped around the sores on her legs which had caused her so much pain. There had been nobody there to greet her that day either, and the future had seemed unknown and frightening. She wished she could go back and tell that child that she'd be okay. She'd make it through. That she was clever and resourceful. That she'd meet somebody wonderful and her life would have meaning and purpose again. That she would love and be loved in return.

Trains and taxis passed by in a blur, and after long weeks and countless oceans it seemed no time at all until she was back in Poplar and stood before the most beautiful carousel. She would question that unusual happening later, but she needed to see her girl first. She could have carried on walking, she could have run in amongst the throngs of people and desperately sought her out. She found her legs wouldn't carry her, but her heart knew she was near. She could sense it.

Suddenly, there she was, beautiful Delia. Looking as if she'd collapse with the shock as their gazes finally met. All she could do was meekly wave and wait. A soft hand guided her, tears shining in eyes that loved without question. Grief and longing and a welsh accent that always made her heart lurch. Patsy meant her words- she had always known she would come back. She had always known she would return to her lovely girl. Thousands of miles and endless seas and lands were nothing- she'd walk to the ends of the earth for this one.

She kissed her, and it felt like the seal of a promise. A promise that she would always come back, she would always be with her. That neither of them would ever journey alone again. That travelling would be done together, no-matter where the destination.

It was risky, yes. It was foolhardy, kissing in the street.

Patsy didn't care. The risk and the desperation. It was real and it was them.

After nine months and thousands of miles.

It was perfect.

It was coming home.

It was love.

...

 _"It is a big world, full of things that steal your breath and fill your belly with fire..._

 _But where you go when you leave isn't as important as where you go when you come home."_


End file.
